Experience
by repmetsyrrah
Summary: Sybil has something unexpected to tell Tom on their wedding night. But then, they never were traditional.


**A/N: **So I've been meaning to write this fic for ages after seeing a conversation on Tumblr suggesting this scenario but I only just got around to it. Enjoy!

Thanks to babageneush for the beta.

**Experience**

* * *

She wasn't worried.

She wasn't.

Why should she be?

After all, if the roles were reversed no one would find it strange at all. No one would tell _him_ he was worth any less, no one would advise her not to marry an 'impure' man.

Sybil believed firmly in equality. She should have as much freedom as any man.

Tom believed it too.

Which is why the newly minted Mrs. Sybil Branson was not at all nervous about what she had to tell her husband.

She wasn't.

"Well, that's the last of them," Tom told her, his tone casual but slightly forced as he joined her in the bedroom.

Sybil smiled up at him from where she sat, still in her wedding dress, on the edge of the bed.

_Their_ bed.

Now the real time had come though, and to her surprise, he looked more nervous than she did.

And she knew what to expect.

She had to tell him now then, she wouldn't apologise but she wanted no secrets. Not now, not tonight when there should be- and would be- nothing between them.

He closed the door and offered her a smile which she returned as he knelt in front of her and took her hands in his, kissing them gently.

"I love you," he told her softly. "And if you don't want to we won't," he said earnestly, "I would _never_-"

"No, no, no," she assured him, laughing nervously as she realised he had misinterpreted her silence. She reached a hand out to stroke his face, smoothing away the worry. "It's not that. Not at all."

"I mean to say... I know it's nice. At least, it was the first time I did it."

She waited, unsure where to look as she let her words sink in.

He didn't speak.

"Tom-"

No.

_No_, she would not apologise. She had nothing to apologise for.

"I love you," he told her suddenly, rising on his knees to properly bring his mouth to hers and kiss her firmly.

Sybil wanted to leave it at that but as he pulled back she couldn't help taking his face his her palms and looked hard, searching for doubt.

Looking to see if he was ashamed of her.

But all she saw was love.

"Are you sure?"

Tom laughed. "I am, love," he told her firmly and Sybil did feel ashamed then, how could she have doubted him?

"But I'll admit to surprise. Will you allow me that?"

"I suppose," Sybil sighed, her tone teasing.

He smiled.

"I know you love me," he said simply. "I know that there'll be no other men now we're together, as I hope you know I would never-"

"I know."

"Good. And ask yourself, would it change anything if you knew I had been with another woman?"

"No."

She knew it wouldn't matter to the world but in truth it didn't matter to her either. And not only because it would make her a hypocrite.

"Then this doesn't change anything either."

"Good." She nodded. "Society would tell me I must apologise or be ashamed but I'm not. And I won't."

"No," Tom agreed, "and I think I'd be more surprised if you were."

Their hands found each other's then, twisting together on the fabric of her wedding dress.

Her white dress.

She laughed and he joined her, still kneeling in front of her but no longer looking quite so nervous as before.

"You don't have to tell me," he said slowly after a while, when they had calmed, "but can I ask who..."

"Yes," Sybil told him, "you may, of course. Though you won't know him... His name was Tom too, actually."

Her Tom laughed, and winked at her. "And here I was thinking it was my dashing good looks that attracted you."

Sybil laughed with him and felt the tension ebbing from her body. He was smiling and laughing genuinely, there was no edge to his voice or hardness in his eyes. He had been surprised and she couldn't fault him that, but he had accepted it without judgment and she didn't think she could love him any more.

"His name was Tom Bellasis," she began, "and he was a cousin of my friend Imogen."

Tom nodded. He'd heard of Imogen, poor dear Imogen, one of Sybil's only real friends in her parents' social circle. A bright girl with three brothers whom she'd adored. Three brothers now lying in unmarked graves in France.

"He was going to fight two days later-"

"Ah." Tom gave a knowing nod.

"No." Sybil frowned, before sighing. "Well,_ yes_, but it was more than _that._.. I was very fond of him, and he didn't pressure me if that's what you're afraid of."

Tom nodded, smiling a little. "Well I know _that_ much," he assured her. "Or he'd have been going to war with a bruised cock rather than a happy one."

"Tom!"

"What?" He gave her an indignant and mildly offended look- the effect of which was somewhat lost when he failed to contain his wide grin.

Sybil knew she was still red but she laughed with him, still revelling in the absolute freedom they had with one another. Not only to discuss intimate things but to be crass and rude and laugh about it.

"We only had to one night," Sybil told him. "Though... it was the whole night."

She had feigned illness at a party, tired of the incessant and _meaningless_ chatter about helping the war effort. She pitied the poor soldier unlucky enough to get anything knitted by her but any time she mentioned doing something _useful_ her mother smiled awkwardly and changed the subject.

Tom had offered to escort her home, the suggestion raising few suspicions. He was staying right next door and he was a gentleman, no one worried.

And he had been a gentleman really. He had never suggested it but he hadn't protested as she had followed him to his house. Then upstairs. She had felt bold and daring and she had been the one to lead him into the bedroom.

They had laughed, he had held her and whispered words of comfort as he had taken her before they had adjusted to the feel of each other and found a rhythm, discovering together just how wonderful it could be.

They were not memories Sybil would hide from.

She would never let anyone tell her they had been wrong.

They were not moments between lovers, but friends. Who had sought, and found, comfort in each other in the midst of a world descending to hell.

They were not memories of love, they were not memories that would ever compare to the ones she would soon make with _her_ Tom.

But they were private memories.

She had never truly loved Tom Bellasis, not as a wife should love a husband. Not as she knew she could love (not as she had sometimes wondered she might be capable of feeling for a certain Irishman). But that wasn't to mean she did not care for him.

"I'll leave it there," she told him after a moment, pulling herself back to the present. "You are my husband now, my dearest friend and I love you like no one else but that night was between me and him, and it will stay that way."

Tom was silent for a moment before bringing his hands up to her face. "Oh my darling," he breathed, shaking his head and staring at her with such adoration it took her breath away. "I love you, so much."

"I know," she laughed, blinking back tears, "And I love you, Tom Branson. Beyond what I even knew I could. You are the only man I have ever truly loved. You can know that."

"I only need to know I'm the man you love now," he said softly, between kisses. "And the only man you love now and for the rest of your life."

"Of course," she answered without hesitation, pulling him closer and deepening the kisses until they were both gasping, already fumbling with clothing. "So long as I'm your only woman."

Tom laughed and stopped his kisses, looking down somewhat nervously.

"Actually," he started slowly. "You are... the _only_ woman."

Now it was her turn to be surprised.

"Never?"

He shook his head. "No, never."

Suddenly he laughed, not nervously or softly but loud and uncontrolled and infectious. Sybil found herself unable to help but join him, wondering how she had ever been nervous about telling him anything.

Tom shook his head at her once he'd gained some semblance of control, but still grinning madly. "Here you are worried I'll judge you for having experience but you're genuinely surprised I've had none."

"We never were traditional," Sybil agreed, standing and pulling him up with her.

She kissed him then and wondered again what she had ever done in her life to deserve such a man.

"I'm just glad one of us will know what they're doing," Tom admitted as they pulled apart, still holding one another close.

Sybil smiled.

"I'll be gentle," she promised.


End file.
